What I Have To Offer
by BananaLollypop
Summary: 'Merritt knew, with a fair amount of certainty, that he was the odd one out in their ragtag group of magically inclined criminals.' The Horsemen reflect on each other and their individual purposes in their bizarre little group. (*Rated T for possibly sensitive backstories * four-shot *)
1. Merritt

Merritt knew, with a fair amount of certainty (because he was a mentalist and that's what mentalists did: they _knew stuff with a fair amount of certainty_), that he was the odd one out in their ragtag group of magically inclined criminals. Sure, he was older than the rest, but that wasn't what set him apart (not always, at least).

The three kids (because that's what they were, to him) all had their own pasts. He'd deducted that Henley ran away in her teens (and he'd been spot on, thank you very much) and she'd told him her story of a brief but life-changing interaction with a group who were definitively 'the wrong crowd' that ended in her parents bailing her out of jail. That was when she had discovered her natural ability of escaping from handcuffs, much to the non-amusement of the police officers who had her in their custody. Her parents had threatened to throw her out after that escapade, so she left before they could and pursued her future career in magic and escapism. This of course led to her meeting one J. Daniel Atlas, who she had initially gotten on with but had then gotten to know as a person; it wasn't long before she'd had enough of Danny's jibes (she called him Danny because she knew it annoyed him but didn't notice when he actually started to enjoy the fact that Henley had a special nickname for him). After a year and a bit (12 months, seven weeks and three days, she always remembered effortlessly, despite not being aware that she had been counting) she left Daniel to make a name for herself as a solo act, which led to a successful career in Los Angeles.

Then there was Jack, who really _was_ a kid (he couldn't even legally buy alcohol yet and, in Merritt's book, nothing says 'child' more than that little fact). He'd had a pretty awful childhood that featured brief (and sometimes not-so-brief) spells of homelessness and a father who wasn't physically abusive but who cared so little for Jack that the kid might as well not have been there at all. His mother had died so long ago Jack couldn't remember how she had treated him, but he remembered a kind face and a soothing voice, so she can't have been all bad. Unlike Henley, his pickpocketing abilities were not a talent but had come from years of having to survive off his own back; perfection comes from practice and Jack had had a _lot_ of practice. He truly did idolise Daniel, which Merritt found odd because the two couldn't be more different, yet the dedication Jack put in to mastering everything Danny taught him (be it directly or indirectly) really was sort of touching, and Merritt put it down to the fact that Jack had never really had a father figure worthy of being idolised.

Then there was, of course, the famous, yet mysterious, J. Daniel Atlas, whose name was a mystery in itself: he stubbornly refused to tell any of the Horsemen what the 'J' stood for; not even Henley knew, which drove Merritt insane because he was supposed to _know things_ and he just couldn't work out what that 'J' was in place of. In the few months that Merritt had known him, he had discovered several things about Daniel: 1. That he most definitely was a control freak which meant that 2. He was incredibly specific about anything and everything he ever did, meaning that 3. He reacted very badly if things didn't work out how he wanted them to in the respect that, in these events, 4. He had frequent panic attacks.

Merritt had discovered all of this about Daniel on one fateful day when the showman had been sick with the flu and Henley had put on her 'scary face' (which truly was terrifying), stubbornly refusing to let him come to a rehearsal for a show they were doing in Florida to spread their name around a bit. They had left him alone in their apartment and went to rehearsal; when Merritt returned that evening with Henley and Jack, he was burdened with the task of taking some freshly made chicken soup to Daniel after Henley insisted on purchasing it from, in her words, a 'quaint little café'. He entered Daniel's room to find the man sat on the floor, hugging his knees to his chest, surrounded by plans for their show with tear tracks on his face and his breaths coming in short, irregular gasps for air. Merritt had panicked for a second before abandoning the soup on Daniel's desk and slowly guiding the man back to sanity with quiet words of comfort and a strong arm around his shoulders. When he was calm enough to function properly, Daniel explained (of his own accord, which shocked Merritt slightly) that his mother had rather aggressive obsessive compulsive disorder that she passed onto him in the form of needing to be in control at all times because otherwise people might do things wrong and how can something wrong be successful? Merritt assured him that no one would judge him but that he'd keep Daniel's past and present a secret if that's what he wanted.

"Thanks," Daniel had replied, looking away from Merritt almost sheepishly. Then a small smirk appeared on his face as he looked back, "And the 'J' stands for Jeremiah." Merritt's eyes had widened.

"Really?!" he'd asked, shocked. Daniel's smirk grew as he snorted.

"Of course not," he replied, "My parents actually wanted me to be successful in life. Have you ever heard of a famous Jeremiah?!"

Merritt had thrown a few choice hand gestures his way, leaving the man alone again with orders to eat his soup and get better so that he could dictate their rehearsals once again.

All of the information Merritt knew regarding the other Horsemen allowed him to know, with a fair amount of certainty, that he was the odd one out. Of course he had a rather displeasing past, just as the others did, but they didn't know what it was like to have something and lose it. Merritt had lost everything he had because his own brother turned on him. Sure, that's a clear indicator of a dysfunctional family, but that was something the McKinneys had never been.

Merritt had grown up in a little suburban house on a quiet little street in a happy family. He had loving parents who always supported him and an older brother who was more like a best friend. Merritt sometimes found it strange as a child that nothing he ever did embarrassed his brother; the older boy would just laugh it off, ruffling his hair or punching his shoulder playfully.

When he'd discovered mentalism, Merritt had dazzled his friends by doing reads on strangers they saw in the town. When one of the group then interrogated said strangers about what Merritt had inferred from their body language and attitude and general attire (though he told his friends it was mind reading, because that was far more impressive) they found that Merritt had been completely right and his confidence grew.

Then he'd discovered hypnosis and it was wild and exciting and something completely outside his comfort zone but with his friends feeding his ego, he found it surprisingly easy to grasp enough confidence to hypnotise someone effectively. Over time, his confidence grew more, and when he got to college he started using his little tricks to make money and get girls. He guessed (his memory of those years was foggy at best) that this was when his brother first showed interest in either of his gifts. It wasn't long before his brother was encouraging him to take it further and, being the older, wiser sibling, Merritt went along with it, not once questioning his motives. He dropped out halfway through his second year of college, appointed his brother as his manager and started planning for a career that would bring him fame and fortune.

It took five years, but eventually Merritt's name was passed around until his was America's next great hypnotist. His first shows were bigger than any he'd had before but still small in terms of show business. He stayed in California, mostly, because anything will pass there, growing more and more famous with each show because he was _good_ at what he did and people appreciated that. At the age of twenty seven, he was offered his first tour and it was absolutely huge. He remembered crying like a five year old girl when his brother rang him with the news, immediately calling his parents to tell them. They told him they were proud and that everyone in his hometown was talking about him.

He wished he'd known then how quickly his time in the spotlight would end; maybe then he could have minimised the damage somewhat. He'd been touring the US on and off for six years and one day, he went to pay for his lunch from his credit card to have it denied. Luckily, the waitress and her manager were fans of his and said he could have his food on the house. He went straight to an ATM to find his account empty. It was void of any money he'd made in the last twelve years. He called his bank, who said that his money had been transferred, with the permission of 'Mr McKinney', into another account.

Merritt returned to the apartment he had been sharing with his brother to find a note written in said brother's identifiable scrawling handwriting:

_Sorry, Merritt. _

Merritt had never spoken to his brother again, disappearing for a number of years before going back to his college ways, using mentalism and hypnotism to make money, except, this time, he made a point of making sure that no one he met would be screwed over my someone they loved. He stayed true to this up to the day he received his invitation from the Eye, making sure that the woman who came into the café with her cheating husband wouldn't have both her marriage and her relationship with her sister ruined.

In truth, the only reason he agreed to join the Horsemen at first was because they would be returning things to those who had lost them, restoring justice to those who had been cheated. If Merritt was to be remembered for anything, he wanted to be remembered for helping people escape the fate he himself had fallen prey to. The respect, and then love, that he held for the other Horsemen came later but only intensified his need to stop people getting hurt.

Merritt knew, with a fair amount of certainty, that he was the odd one out in their ragtag group of magically inclined criminals. Not because he was older, or because his act was all educated guessing and people skills and no actual precision or control, or because he had had his fair share of ups and downs in life.

Merritt was different because he was the one who reminded the other Horsemen that they still had something to lose. He was there to make sure they never forgot that, no matter how famous or successful you get, it can all come crashing down to nothing. And that was something none of the other Horsemen could offer.

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><p><strong>Hello there! This was my first venture into the NYSM fandom; this idea just wouldn't let me go so I wrote it in 50 minutes and here it is! I'm hoping for this to be a four-shot: one chapter from the POV of each of the Horsemen. Possibly a fivesix-shot, depending on whether or not I have enough ideas for Dylan and Alma! For context: this is written to take place approximately four months after the Horsemen's initial meeting. The backstories in this are completely of my creation (I tried to go for something I've never read before but still made sense) and so I have been using my little Creative License (as awarded to all authors!). I shall now stop babbling to say three important things:**

**1. Reviews are rays of sunshine that will make my day so pretty please leave one!**

**2. I may update this regularly or I may not; if you'd like me to continue, throw this story a follow!**

**3. Thank you ever so much for reading!**


	2. Jack

**AN: **Apologies that this took forever to get out; my excuses are as follows: started college, writers block, work, having to interact with people in the outernet (never again!). I'd like to say a big thanks to everyone who reviewed/favourited/followed since I posted the first chapter: you guys motivated me to finally finish this one!

This chapter will focus on Jack and contains naughty words on Merritt's behalf. Enjoy!

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><p>Jack Wilder felt insignificant on a near daily basis when in the company of the other Horsemen. Not only was he the youngest, he was the most inexperienced of the four which, in Daniel's eyes particularly, meant that he was the most expendable.<p>

This, however, was far from the case and Jack knew this very well. He had come to learn over the years that everyone had some kind of purpose. His, he had decided long ago, was to make people laugh.

Being the sleight that he was, Jack was particularly good at violating the safety of people's pockets. Whilst it was frankly laughably easy for him to sneak things out of pockets and bags (which he did to Merritt at least once a day because it was hilarious), it was just as easy for him to slip things into them; that was where the fun began for the whole group.

It was six months into their year of planning for their big heists that Jack decided that the tension around them was just too much. Daniel had, if it were possible, become even more of a control freak in the half a year since they'd all met, which resulted in hours upon hours of rehearsal and taking notes and double-, triple-, quadruple- and quintuple-checking. Merritt would deliberately make fun of him to piss him off, which ended in a shouting match and the two parties storming to their rooms and ignoring each other (save for their constant snide comments and condescending looks) for days. Henley would somehow work him into arguments that almost qualified on the Richter scale due to their earth-shattering properties, which ended in Merritt and Jack leaving the apartment in the hope that _their_ possessions, at least, would be in one piece when they returned. As for Jack, he was the only one who didn't really annoy Daniel (though that didn't stop the older magician from chastising him for every single mistake he made with a comment like 'how can you expect to be accepted into the Eye when you make such ridiculous errors?!').

With all of these aspects of the Horsemen's lives adding up to a stiflingly tense atmosphere around them 98% of the time, Jack set out to create the Most Awesomely Tension-Shattering Group of Perfectly Executed Pranks of All Time Ever.

Phase One: Attack of the Dobby.*

This started with a missing sock. More accurately: it started with Jack _stealing_ a sock when Daniel was out on the weekly shopping trip.

It was a well-known fact that Daniel had to have things the way they were supposed to be at all times, be it making sure all of the knives, forks and spoons were in their respective sections of the cutlery drawer or ensuring that every aspect of each of their shows went without flaw. So, it was no surprise to Jack (who had laughed at how easy it had been to break into Daniel's room) when he found fifteen pairs of socks, rolled into meticulously neat balls and arranged in lines of three (gaps to the right of the third line and in the middle of the fifth where Daniel had obviously worn socks recently) to the left of the second drawer down in the chest at the side of Daniel's room. Said socks, Jack noticed, had been arranged in order of shade (the lightest grey in the top left hand corner, the black at the bottom right) and there was nothing more colourful than charcoal grey in sight.

Looking down at his own socked feet, the left sock orange with a hole encircling the top of his big toe, the right bright green decorated with red and white striped stockings, Jack was glad that Daniel's control freak-ed-ness stretched to the lengths shown in the sock drawer before him; if he'd been even slightly more messy then Jack's job would be a heck of a lot harder.

With this in mind, Jack quickly stripped off his Christmassy sock, pulling out a random pair from the middle of Daniel's arranged assortment, undoing the ball and replacing one of the mid-grey socks with his own. Taking not quite enough effort to make sure the socks were put back looking remotely like he'd found them (because, Jack figured, Daniel was _supposed _to find out that one of his socks was missing, _that was the point_), Jack put everything back (just about) where he found it and made his quick and sneaky exit.

The next part of Phase One was implemented ten minutes later, when Jack saw Merritt.

It was all too easy for the sleight to slip his newly-acquired sock into the man's jacket, especially seeing as Henley had just pulled him (literally) out of bed and forced him to get dressed. Jack smirked slightly as he followed Merritt into the kitchen.

"Dude!" he exclaimed, clapping him on the shoulder with one hand whilst using the other to slip the sock into his pocket, "It's, like, four in the afternoon! How can you sleep for that long?!"

"A well-polished combination of pissing Daniel off, booze and practice," Merritt muttered in reply, setting about to make himself a coffee.

Jack left the room, his smirk widening further.

He put Phase Two into action immediately: Operation Escape the Escape Artist (honestly, Jack figured he should have been a spy or something, his plan was _genius_...).

Phase One of his plan involved getting Daniel pissed at Merritt; Phase Two needed Henley to be mad at Daniel. And what did Henley hold most dear?

Her gloves, obviously.

But, additional to that, Henley cared about her style: she cared about what she looked like. Sure, her gloves were part of that, but what Henley _really_ cared about was her _entire wardrobe._

Which was how, an hour later, all of Henley's clothes were somehow (and Jack had _absolutely no idea_ how this could have happened) spread across the roof of their apartment building; Jack had kept a single glove aside, however, to (badly) hide in Daniel's room. Hanging up in her wardrobe in place of her clothes were the sheets of fabric she used in her performances occasionally, which had previously been locked aware in a storage cupboard labelled 'IMPORTANT MAGIC ITEMS; DO NOT TOUCH WITHOUT DANIEL'S PERMISSION'. Jack had honestly found the small, average padlock on the door quite insulting.

It did, however, place suspicion on Daniel, because Jack had promised that he wouldn't use his pickpocketing skills unless it was necessary for a show, and would Jack _ever_ go back on a promise?

Well, the important thing was that he could _act_ like he'd never go back on a promise, and so key-holding Daniel, who was unknowingly in possession of one of the woman's precious gloves for no apparent reason, was Henley's only possible suspect, getting Jack out of the line of fire. Which led to Phase Three: Operation ANSA (Alcoholics Not-So Anonymous).

Merritt had made it painfully clear that his average daily alcohol intake was roughly a mile over way-too-much; wherever Merritt went, alcohol was sure to follow. Merritt often likened his addiction to 'a deranged, insane and clingy ex-wife who gives very, _very_ good sex'.

It doesn't really need to be said that he was drunk at the time this statement was made.

This gave Jack the perfect opportunity to make sure Merritt had a bone to pick with Henley: the aim of Phase Three.

Having been rudely awoken from his slumber, it didn't take Merritt long to fall asleep again on the sofa, as Henley got in the shower at the perfect moment (Jack couldn't believe how many things had gone his way, it was frankly _astounding_ that his insanely complicated and near-impossible plan hadn't been ruined yet). Enter Jack, who spent the next twenty minutes (the _whole_ twenty minutes) collecting up every form of container that held any alcohol in the entire apartment.

It took him six trips to stow all of the bottles, cans and glasses on top of Henley's wardrobe, hidden behind some storage boxes she had up there; he left the room, closing the door quietly behind him (though he doubted the female Horseman would have heard it over her singing) just as Daniel returned with the shopping.

Jack casually strolled towards the front door, raising his eyebrows as a soaking wet Daniel staggered in with eighteen shopping bags.

"I don't care what Henley says," the man muttered, "Next time, I'm taking the car, even if the store is only down the street."

"So, er..." Jack grinned, "Is it raining outside?" which was a genuine question, because it _hadn't_ been raining when he'd hidden Henley's clothes.

Daniel glared at him. "Just put this lot away, would you?" he grumbled, "I need to change."

Jack nodded, picking up a few of the bags Daniel had just dumped on the floor as the Showman walked through to his bedroom to swap his wet clothes for dry ones. As he walked through the living room, he nudged Merritt with his foot, waking the man.

"Wait, what?" Merritt said, looking around confusedly.

"Daniel's home," Jack told him, carrying on into the kitchen, "Just thought I'd warn you." Merritt rolled his eyes.

"Oh, joy!" he said sarcastically, standing up and stretching, "God, I need a drink..."

And in the space of three minutes, Jack's plan fell into place as perfectly as it could have done.

Daniel picked out a certain medium-grey pair of socks.

Henley got out of the shower and moved towards her wardrobe to get out a new set of clothes.

Merritt went looking for the drink he supposedly needed to deal with Daniel's presence.

And Jack waited, putting the shopping away as normally as he could manage, the grin on his face growing by the second.

Silence spread throughout the apartment as Jack's three victims took in what had happened. Then:

"_**Where is my other sock?!"**_

"_**Where are my **_**clothes**_**?!"**_

"_**Where is all my fucking alcohol?!"**_

The three suddenly communed in the living room, Daniel barefooted but now in dry clothes, Henley wrapped in a towel with her wet hair dripping onto the carpet and Merritt looking strangely sober.

"Whose sock is this?!" Daniel demanded, holding up the bright green Christmas sock that Jack suddenly had an intense attachment to.

"Hey, that's mine!" Jack said, walking through from the kitchen, "I've been looking for that everywhere. Thanks, Daniel."

"No, no, that wasn't my point," Daniel said, glaring at the sock in Jack's hand, "My _point_ is _where is __**my**__ sock_?!"

"Yes, Danny, because that is totally more important than the disappearance of _all my clothes_!" Henley snapped, "Where are they?! This obviously wasn't an _accident_ so tell me where they are and no one will get seriously hurt."

"Yes, yes, your problems are very touching and, I assure you, you're next in line," Merritt said, his voice deadly quiet, "But if I don't get a drink soon, I'm going to start flipping shit."

"Woah, woah, guys," Jack held his hands up, finding it more and more difficult to hide his smirk as their anger progressed, "I'm sure this is all a total misunderstanding..."

"_No one_ touches my socks, _ever_."

"_All _my clothes, Jack!"

"Good _God_, I need a drink!"

"Look, we'll have a look around," Jack said, "Maybe everything will turn up?"

No one could fault Jack's plan (because how could they with his innocent little face) and so the group set about searching the apartment, Henley borrowing some pyjama bottoms and an old t-shirt of Daniel's until her clothes were found. After three quarters of an hour and no discoveries (god, were these people _blind_, Jack would have found everything _ages_ ago... had he wanted to), Daniel was on the brink of a nervous breakdown, Henley was seething and Merritt was having withdrawal symptoms.

"I swear to god, Merritt, if this is you playing some dumbass trick to try and be funny..." Daniel growled.

"Oh please, don't flatter yourself," Merritt bit back, "Why would I want one of your socks?!"

"I don't know, why don't _you_ tell _me_?" Daniel retorted.

"What, do you want to search me?!" Merritt challenged, "Please!" he exclaimed, opening his arms welcomingly, "Be. My. Guest."

Daniel wasted no time in taking the man up on his offer and Jack watched, barely hiding his glee as he slipped his hand into the pocket that currently hid the sock.

Daniel froze for a moment before pulling the sock out, looking between it and Merritt with a semi-shocked, semi-triumphant expression on his face. Merritt was blinking quickly, his already fragile mind confused by this sudden turn of events.

"I'd love to say that I can explain," he managed to utter after a moment, "But I haven't got a fucking clue how that got in there."

"Oh, sure," Daniel snarled, "You have been _waiting_ for me to be out the way so that you could do something like this!"

"Oh, of course!" Merritt argued back angrily, "Because, if I were to steal something of yours, _of course_ I would hide in my _own_ pocket! That's a totally logical thing to do!" Before Daniel could reply or even react, Henley's voice rang out through the entire apartment complex.

"_Jonathan Daniel Atlas, where are my clothes?!"_ the three men looked confusedly at each other (only two of them _genuinely_ confused, of course) before rushing to where Henley was stood in Daniel's room.

"What?" Daniel said tentatively after a moment of her staring at them.

"Danny," Henley said, her tone deadly, "Where. Are. My. Clothes?"

"I have no idea," Daniel said, looking confused, "Why would I know wh-" Henley held up the single glove that Jack had left peeking out from one of the drawers of Daniel's bedside table, cutting him off.

"This," Henley said, shaking the glove to prove her point, "Was in _your_ drawer, in _your_ room. So, _logically_, it would make sense to assume that you know where the rest of my clothes are. Plus, you're the only one with the key to the store cupboard, which is where my fabric was, and my fabric is where my clothes _should_ be. So, please, tell me right this second where they are before I _rip every hair out of your head with a toothpick._"

"I don't know how that glove got in here and I haven't been in the store cupboard for weeks," Daniel said defensively, "And honestly, I'm hurt that you'd accuse me of-"

"Oh, come off it, Danny, we all know you're such a control freak that you know every inch of this room, back to front, to the _centimetre_," Henley snapped, "Like you 'wouldn't know' how my glove got in here!"

"You say that as if it's a bad thing," Daniel retorted, "I don't know where your stupid clothes are, Henley, and I don't appreciate you criticising how I live _my_ life."

"Oh, join the club," Merritt muttered. Henley turned to him.

"And what's that supposed to mean?!" she demanded. Merritt snorted humourlessly.

"Just that you can't go eight minutes without making some kind of comment on my drinking habits," Merritt said. He frowned slightly, "Now that I think about it..." he continued, "You've been telling me to cut down on my alcohol for weeks. What, did you think you'd just take it into your own hands?"

"What?!" Henley exclaimed, "You can't seriously be suggesting that _I_ took all your drink!"

"I'm not just suggesting it," Merritt said, "Who else would it be?! Daniel's been out all day and Jack doesn't care! You were so desperate to get me out of my room earlier... making sure I didn't have anything stashed away, were you?"

"You're being ridiculous..."

"Oh, so Merritt's ridiculous but _you're_ not? Figures..."

"Shut _up_, Daniel!"

"Yeah, Daniel, shut up!"

"Merritt, you're lucky that I haven't literally torn your head off."

"_I didn't steal your bloody sock!_"

"Then how did it get in your pocket?!"

"No one cares about your sock, Daniel, _where are my clothes_?!"

As the argument continued in a similar fashion, Jack found that he couldn't keep it in any longer and burst out laughing. The other three didn't quite clock his reaction at first, but eventually fell silent to stare at the youngest Horseman in confusion.

"Okay, I give up," Merritt said after a moment, "What's funny?"

"You guys!" Jack gasped, still laughing, "You're all so dumb!"

The three didn't say anything for a moment before Daniel sighed, "It was him." He said, gesturing towards Jack, "He did it."

"Did what?" Henley asked, her anger still drifting away but very much present.

"Everything," Merritt continued for Daniel, looking at Jack with some newfound respect, "The sock, your clothes, my alcohol... he did the lot."

"_Why_?!" Henley asked, now addressing Jack, "What was the point in that?! To piss us all off?!" Jack had just about stopped laughing and rolled his eyes.

"The tension in this place has been ridiculous over the last few weeks," he said, "It was too much to deal with. So I took your stuff and planted it on other people and it made you all argue in a big circle and you didn't even _notice_ that I hadn't been affected!" he started chuckling again, before this progressed into more full-on laughing.

It was infectious enough that, soon after, Merritt was laughing as well, followed by Henley and then Daniel, despite the fact that they didn't have all that much to laugh about.

Just like that the tension was gone; Jack had not only made them all laugh, but he'd unintentionally got them to address several issues affecting the group (Daniel's being a control freak, for instance, and Merritt drinking too much, as well as Henley being slightly judgemental about the other Horsemen's lifestyle choices).

When they'd eventually all stopped laughing, Merritt clapped Jack on the shoulder, "That was a good prank, kid," he congratulated him, "Nice work." He and Henley then looked at him expectantly.

"What?" Jack asked after a moment.

"Where's my booze?" Merritt said, all traces of laughter gone. Jack grinned.

"On top of Henley's wardrobe." He answered.

Merritt sighed, facepalming, "The one place I didn't look..."

"And my clothes?" Henley pressed. Jack made a face.

"They may be slightly damp?" he offered, "I left them on the roof. In my defence," he continued hurriedly at the look of outrage on Henley's face, "It wasn't raining when I put them out there and I tried to put them in enclosed places." Henley growled, storming out of the room.

Jack turned worriedly to Daniel, "She's going to kill me, isn't she?" he asked.

Daniel smirked, "Call it karma for messing with my socks." He said, clapping Jack's shoulder before leaving the man alone.

Jack groaned quietly but then let himself grin again; even if the others hadn't got all that much fun out of it, the Most Awesomely Tension-Shattering Group of Perfectly Executed Pranks of All Time Ever had given him a laugh and had definitely shattered the tension.

In his eyes, that was Mission: Accomplished.

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><p><strong>And that's that! I hope you enjoyed and I'm sorry if it doesn't make sensehas mistakes in places; it's half one in the morning for m right now so my brain is all 'kgdkagdkasvbcnxxk' (and yes, that's a technical term).**

**Review if you feel like making my day (pllleeeaaasseee? :3). Favourite/follow if you deem this worthy ^-^ Until the next time; thanks for reading!**


	3. Daniel

**AN:** Annnnnnddd I'm back! I've been working on this for literal months (I had the first half of the first part completed straight away and then hit block after block after block) BUT IT'S DONE NOW! It's a more serious one after the hilarity that ensued in the last chapter so hopefully I'll find a way to make Henley's chapter a little more upbeat :)) Enjoy!

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><p>None of the Horsemen had ever really pictured Daniel as someone who could be kind. His attitude, personality and general <em>being<em> were not, in the slightest, things that beckoned for you to tell him your darkest secrets, nor did they draw you to him when you needed comfort.

However, in time, it became apparent that perhaps Daniel could be more empathic than they first thought.

It was in one of their first rehearsals after they formed their group, preparing for a small show in New York that was essential, apparently, for getting their name out and increasing the impact of their eventual heists, that this became apparent. Henley was doing one of her escape acts ("_Because_, Danny, that's what I do now," she'd told Daniel scathingly when he'd questioned her choice of act, "I'm not your assistant anymore."), a new performance that she'd be planning before the Eye made its debut in their lives.

"Are you sure that's safe?" Daniel looked sceptically up at the spike-ridden wooden boards spread apart and attached to the ceiling.

"Yes, Danny, for the last time, _I am a professional_," Henley snapped, stretching her wrists out before adamantly climbing the ladder and fitting herself into the harness. She had to get one of the stagehands to lock the last padlocks into place around her wrists.

"Professional or not, this is literally a death-trap," Danny said, standing underneath her and looking up. Henley stubbornly ignored him.

"Could you start the timer please?" she called to the stagehand, who nods and quickly sets about starting the timer and, by extension, Henley's act.

Daniel wasn't sure what it was, but his instincts were telling him that the entire situation was a very _bad idea_. He watched nervously as Henley made her way through the padlocks attached at various points over the harness.

"How are you going to get down?" Daniel asked after one of her two allotted minutes were up, "They moved the ladder..."

"I flip," Henley said through gritted teeth, glaring at him, "Stop putting me off, Danny!" Daniel help his hands up in surrender, taking a step back.

The timer was getting dangerously close to zero and Daniel tapped his fingers anxiously on his crossed arms.

"Henley..." he said warningly, "You're running out of time..."

"That's kind of the entire point, Danny," Henley bit back, "Just shut up, would you?!" the timer turned to zero just as Henley unlocked the padlock holding her ankles together and she dropped, unceremoniously, if Daniel was asked, from the ceiling as the wooden boards were released at one side, swinging towards each other and crashing together as Henley collided with the stage floor.

"_Henley_!" Daniel wasn't often prompted into raising his voice but with the noise produced by the boards above and the fact that this was _Henley_, someone he _cared_ about, and she was hurt, the situation had him shouting and racing towards where his ex-assistant was laying on the floor.

"Oh, crap," Henley muttered, struggling to sit up and holding her left shoulder, "I think I dislocated it." Daniel crouched down next to her, a hand coming to rest on her uninjured shoulder as he made sure that she wasn't hurt anywhere else.

"Are you okay?" he asked, slightly breathless with the shock of the situation. Henley rolled her eyes, shrugging his hand off.

"I'm fine," she said, "This isn't the first time I've dislocated my shoulder, Danny, I just need to pop it back in..."

"No, no, no," Daniel said firmly, "You're going to a hospital."

"I don't need to go to a-"

"It's a hospital or I let Jack try to figure out how to relocate a shoulder." Danny threatened. Henley paused for a moment before sighing, glaring at the man in front of her.

"Fine," she muttered, "But you're completely overreacting."

"No, I'm not," Daniel said, helping her up with surprising gentleness that Henley hadn't been entirely sure he possessed, "This is definitely hospital worthy."

"Are you sure we can fit it into your _schedule_?" Henley muttered through gritted teeth. Daniel paused in their walk towards the stage door.

"Of course I can," he said quietly, "Where your health is concerned, there's always time." Henley could hear in his tone that she'd hurt his feeling. She grimaced slightly.

"Sorry," she said, "I didn't mean it like that... I guess I'm just in pain." Daniel shrugged.

"Don't worry," he said. Henley was somewhat grateful for the arm he had wrapped around her; she wasn't at all used to being comforted but she'd forgotten how painful a dislocated shoulder was and was suddenly realising how bad she was at _dealing_ with that pain.

"Are you okay?" she heard Daniel somewhere in the back of her mind but was too focused on trying to stop the tears in her eyes to properly pay attention, "Henley?" she shook her head.

"I'm fine," she replied. Daniel frowned.

"No, you're not," he muttered, "Come on, let's get you to the ER." Henley just nodded, letting him lead her out to the car and strap her in.

The drive to the hospital was practically silent, which neither of them minded all that much; they often participated in long periods of very loud conversation, so, sometimes, the quiet was appreciated.

Daniel parked the car as close to the entrance as possible and Henley simply remained where she was as Daniel set about getting out of the car. He moved around and opened the door for her, waiting for her to get out.

"Henley?" he said expectantly. Henley smiled almost sheepishly.

"Would now be a good time to mention that I'm not the, er... biggest fan of hospitals?" Daniel smirked slightly; he really should have guessed. Henley may have accused him at every possible opportunity of being a control freak but he had never known anyone to have more of a need of being in control of their own life as Henley Reeves.

"Come on," he said, holding a hand out to her, "I'll hold your hand." Henley rolled her eyes at him, taking a steadying breath as the pain in her arm won over her fear, undoing her seatbelt and taking Daniel's hand as she climbed out of the car.

Henley had to give it to him; Daniel didn't complain once about having to sit with her for four hours, waiting for a doctor, then an x-ray, then for the doctor to look at the x-ray, then for the doctor to decide what pain relief would be best, then for the doctor to actually fix her shoulder. He didn't complain when she gripped his hand tightly for no reason except that she needed to know that he was still there with her. He didn't complain when she squeezed his hand so hand she cracked a bone in his thumb and they had to wait for him to have an x-ray and then have his hand wrapped.

He didn't complain about the fact that they'd missed six hours of rehearsal, nor that Henley would have to miss a further six weeks, nor that Daniel himself had to wait at least four weeks until even attempting to get his dexterity with cards back to normal.

Daniel simply drove her home, had her sit on the couch with an icepack on her shoulder and a cup of coffee, telling her that she needed to rest.

"The sooner you heal, the sooner we can get back to rehearsing," he pointed out. Henley simply smiled and he left her be, going to his room to read.

"Danny?" Henley's voice made him stop in the doorway of the lounge, "Thank you." Daniel smiled slightly.

"Nothing to thank me for." He said simply before leaving her alone.

* * *

><p>Jack already idolised Daniel; if someone was to tell him that, behind his control freak façade, J. Daniel Atlas was one of the most caring guys around, Jack would simply shrug, having expected as much.<p>

It wasn't until a quarter of their year of craziness had passed that he actually _realised_ this, however.

They had been together for three months; they were around each other for what felt like twenty four hours, seven days a week. It had got to the point where there was absolutely no point in keeping secrets because someone would find out sooner or later and they'd got to that point in friendship where telling the others things was better than holding them in, most of the time.

But Jack wasn't the most trusting person. He knew that, if you asked a psychologist, they'd say that he had trust issues from a damaged childhood and he'd probably agree (because, really, what did he know about psychology that was worthy of him arguing with an expert?). So he didn't tell the others his deepest, darkest secrets. That just wasn't the type of person he was.

He didn't even plan on telling them; not even when Henley had confessed in him that she'd lived on the streets once and that even Daniel didn't know (she knew that Merritt had deduced it and that Daniel _suspected_ but she'd never outright told someone) and that strangely meant a lot of Jack because she'd trusted him with something huge.

The point was that Jack didn't do touchy-feely deep, meaningful conversations, ever; even when he was woken from a nightmare at half three in the morning and he was forced to stay awake for the rest of the nigh by his constantly active mind. It was that, or having to face the fact that, one day, their adventure into the strange and magical was going to end and he was going to lose everything he'd come to hold dear. He almost always chose the former over the latter which largely contributed to the fact that he could sleep absolutely _anywhere _during the day, a factthat Henley continually pointed out enviously.

Which found him in the kitchen at four in the morning, a cup of coffee in one hand and his phone in the other. He walked through to the lounge and almost dropped his drink when he found Daniel sitting in the armchair that faced the kitchen doorway.

"Dude, what the hell?!" Jack whispered, conscious of the fact that Henley and Merritt were still asleep (though it would take three earthquakes, an alien invasion and the sun exploding to wake Merritt up in the middle of the night).

"You get up at this time at least three times a week," Daniel replied, not whispering but his voice still quiet, "I figured I should find out why."

"I just fancied a drink," Jack said, trying to hide his unease, "No biggie."

"No one drinks coffee at four a.m.," Daniel said, his tone still neutral, "Not unless they're not planning on falling asleep again." Jack tried to smile and chuckled nervously.

"What can I say, I was really craving coffee..." he said, "I'm going to head back to my room... Night, Daniel." He quickly made his way towards the doorway, hoping Daniel wouldn't question him further, wanting to get away from him for the first time in his life.

"We all get them, you know," Daniel said quietly and Jack stopped as if he'd been shot, "The nightmares. We all get them." Jack turned around.

"No..." he said, "You don't."

"Of course we do," Daniel said, his tone now indicating that Jack was being ridiculous, "We're not oblivious to the situation we're in, Jack. We know how wrong this could go and the consequences if it does."

Jack slowly moved to sit on the couch opposite him, placing his phone and coffee on the table in between them, "Go on." he prompted after a moment, leaning back and just watching him.

"What do you have nightmares about?" Daniel asked quietly instead of doing as Jack said. Jack shrugged.

"Nothing," he said, "I never said I had nightmares." Daniel raised his eyebrows.

"Mine are about failing, mostly," he told the younger man, "Not even going to jail or whatever will inevitably happen if this goes wrong. I have nightmares about something in a show going wrong and people accusing us of being frauds..." he shrugged. "That's mine."

Jack stayed silent, lifting his coffee cup and sipping it to fill the moment with something other than silence. "Losing everything." He said eventually. Danny simply nodded.

"It's okay to be scared, you know," he said. Jack shook his head.

"It's not fear," he said, "It's... I don't know how to explain it."

"It's not something you have to explain, Jack," Daniel said, "God knows, I've tried."

"But it's stupid," Jack said almost angrily, "I don't want to lose you guys. I don't want to lose what we have. I don't... I don't want to stop doing any of this, ever. I don't want it to end."

"Why is that stupid?" Daniel asked.

"Because it's inevitable, isn't it?" Jack muttered harshly, "This isn't going to go on forever. One of us is going to bail, or we'll all get shoved in prison, or... or something will go wrong, or..." Jack stopped as his voice began to shake. "I'm having nightmares about the future," he said, "And if I'm struggling to cope with that before it's even happened then what am I going to be like when it does?"

Daniel didn't say anything for a moment. Jack drank some more of his coffee and Daniel waited for him to put the down before talking again, "It's not stupid to be scared of the future," he said, "It's stupid to think that the future _isn't_ scary. And it's stupid to bottle this kind of stuff up." He said, looking at Jack with slight disapproval, "The world keeps turning, kid. The future will come and go and the things you're scared of might happen. Or, it'll come and go and they _won't_ happen. Either way... the world still turns. As long as that happens, there's a way through it."

"I like what we have, though," Jack muttered, "Is that dumb? Should I just... not want to keep things how they are?" Daniel shook his head.

"I think," he said, "We have to live in the moment. We shouldn't always let the future shape what we do in the present. I mean, obviously _some_ forward planning is required..." Jack smirked slightly.

"You and your planning," he said with a quiet laugh. Danny smiled.

"There, see?" he said, "It's not all bad." Jack smiled back, getting up and pouring the last of his coffee down the sink. He made his way back into the living room, "Live in the moment. But, for god's sake, don't give up practicing your tricks just because it might affect the future." Jack grinned.

"Thanks, Danny." He said quietly before moving to leave the room.

"Any time, kid," Daniel replied.

Even though the amount of coffee he'd had meant that Jack didn't sleep any more that night, he found that his nightmares became fewer with more time between them.

* * *

><p>Daniel had never expected to have to give Merritt any kind of emotional support; Henley was an old friend and had a bond with Daniel that meant she could confide a lot of her thoughts and feelings in him. Jack was still a kid who knew his inexperience put him at a disadvantage and occasionally needed a shove back onto the right path.<p>

Merritt was a grown man who evidently knew who he was and what he wanted. From what Daniel had seen, he wasn't the kind to need reassurance.

Alas, it turned out that Mr J. Daniel Atlas was in fact _not_ always right.

It was well known ('well' in fact meaning 'not-well') that Merritt's brother had royally screwed him over during his first attempt at fame and fortune. Merritt, evidently the type to hold a grudge, never spoke about him, and the others agreed to never bring it up. There was plenty Merritt shared with them (the majority of which they could have gone their entire lives without knowing); it wasn't exactly essential for them to know anything about the mysterious Brother McKinney and that was where it was left.

And then, one day not long before their big show featuring their first heist, Merritt got a phone call and went AWOL for three days.

Henley and Jack were continually worried, both about Merritt and his safety and the effect his absence was having on Daniel, who had barely stopped pacing and muttering to himself since Merritt had left.

"I swear to god, if he isn't dead or mortally wounded then I am going to _kill_ him," Daniel muttered for the eighteenth time on the third day, "Does he not _know_ what's at stake here?!"

"I'm sure he'll be back any minute, Danny," Henley said, "And if you ask that question again, he won't be the only one missing from our next rehearsal."

Daniel simply glared at her, continuing with his pacing until the front door of their apartment swung open and closed with a slam. Daniel stormed from the room and into the hall, leaving Jack and Henley to remain seated in the living area, looking at each other worriedly.

"Where the hell have you been?!" Daniel raged, "You've been gone for _three days_, what were you thinking?!" Merritt groaned, running a hand over his head.

"Daniel, with all due respect, _shut up_." He growled, walking to his bedroom and slamming the door behind him.

"Well, someone's a bit slammy today," Henley muttered, standing up, "Danny, maybe we should just give him some time..."

"He's had three days," Daniel muttered, opening Merritt's door. "Where have you been, Merritt?!"

"Daniel, seriously," Merritt said, turning around with a murderous look as he slipped his jacket off, "Piss off."

"We deserve to know, Merritt," Henley said quietly from behind Daniel, "You've been gone for days."

"And I apologise for leaving without telling you," Merritt said, sounding weary, "But I'm back now. End of story."

"Leave him alone," Jack called from the living room, "He's not going to tell you anything if he doesn't want to."

"Jack's right, Danny," Henley murmured to Daniel after a moment, "He's back now and he's apologised-"

"He's also still in the room..." Merritt muttered from where he'd collapsed onto his bed.

"I want an explanation," Daniel said pointing at him before leaving the room, the heaviness of his feet not quite qualifying as 'stomping' but coming close.

*. . .*

It wasn't until later that evening that Daniel saw Merritt again. He'd expected to have to drag the information out of the mentalist over a series of days and yet the man came knocking at Daniel's bedroom door shortly after dinner (which both men had refused to attend).

Daniel answered his door, expecting to find Jack on the other side (the knock was too heavy to be Henley, after all, and he'd deduced that it wouldn't _Merritt_, so logically it had to be Jack). Daniel had been getting increasingly confident in his skills with mentalism until he actually opened the door to reveal Merritt on the other side.

"You wanted an explanation," he said after Daniel just stared at him for a moment.

"Yeah, I did." Daniel replied. He opened his door further to let the other man in, moving back to sit on his bed. He didn't offer Merritt a seat (not that there was one to offer him), letting the man lean against the wall opposite him, arms crossed and looking around Daniel's room interested.

"Nice, room," he said, "No, really, I love what you've done with the place..." Daniel rolled his eyes.

"An explanation, Merritt."

"Have I ever mentioned my brother?" Merritt asked.

"Once or twice," Daniel said, frowning slightly, "About how you hated him and stuff."

"Yeah," Merritt breathed a chuckle, looking down, "And I really do hate him. He ruined my career... well, I thought he ruined my career, before we got involved in this crazy Eye stuff."

"Your point?" Daniel asked, "We've all got family issues, Merritt."

"I got a call the other day," Merritt muttered after a moment, "From a number I was eighty seven percent sure had been cut off years ago."

"Your brother called you?" Daniel asked, still not quite sure where Merritt was going.

"Oh, no," Merritt said, "That would have been better. That... I would have preferred that. No, I got a call from the police." Daniel's eyes widened slightly. "At first I was like, 'well shit. Now we're never finding out about the Eye and we're all screwed'," Merritt said, laughing humourlessly again, "And then he kept talking."

"And?" Daniel asked. Merritt paused.

"He's dead, Daniel." He muttered, "Spent all my money then tried mentalism himself. Got on the wrong side of a guy who happened to be pretty damn talented with a knife. Stabbed to death behind a club in Miami."

Daniel was stuck for something to say; he figured 'I'm sorry' probably wouldn't cut it and Merritt probably didn't want his sympathy anyway.

"I was gone for three days because I was at his funeral," Merritt said, pushing himself off of the wall and making his way towards the door, "There's your explanation." He opened the door and Daniel let him leave, unsure of what else he could do.

*. . .*

Later that evening found Henley and Jack in bed (the tension in the apartment was ridiculous and neither of them really felt like being social) and Merritt sitting alone in the living room. He'd been staring at his hands clasped in his lap for who-knew-how-long when a hand appeared over them, passing him a drink.

Merritt looked up at Daniel with the smallest hint of surprise, accepting the drink with a nod.

"First drink I've had in three days..." he muttered. He tilted his glass in Daniel's general direction before downing it in one, "And that, right there, is the reason I am not teetotal." Daniel smiled slightly with his eyebrows raised as he sat opposite him.

"I can't believe you lasted three days," he admitted. Merritt shrugged.

"I had other things to think about."

"All the more reason to have a drink, isn't it?" Daniel questioned. Merritt shrugged.

"So maybe I ran out of cash," he said with a slight smirk, "Let's just go with me having other things to think about, hmm?"

Daniel nodded, sipping from his own drink as Merritt stood up to get himself another. "Do you want to talk about your brother?" he asked the older man after a moment. Merritt smirked again.

"My brother was an ass," he said, "An ass who was greedy and thought money was everything and didn't give a shit about anything or anyone that wouldn't directly benefit his funds."

"But you love him." Daniel said after a second of silence.

"Present tense?" Merritt said, making his way back to his seat, "Yes, I love him. But I didn't. Not for a long time."

"I know the feeling," Daniel muttered. Merritt raised his eyebrows, challenging the man's statement. "Not to the same extent, obviously," Daniel added quickly, "But... I kind of get it, at least."

"How so?" Merritt asked him.

"My little sister was the favourite," Daniel said, "I mean, she still is. I just don't care anymore."

"Mommy and daddy's little darling, is she?" Merritt asked.

"God no," Daniel said, snorting quietly, "She got into all kinds of trouble. Underage drinking, bunking off school, participating in a robbery..." he shook his head, looking towards the window, "You name it, she probably did it at some point. I get my mom's OCD and my dad's desperate need to be successful... she gets their love and attention, no matter what. Not exactly the fairest situation in the world."

"What happened?" Merritt asked. Daniel smirked.

"She became a doctor and I became a magician who's about to break every federal law in existence." He said.

"Now, don't exaggerate," Merritt said, pointing a finger at him, "We probably won't kill anybody. Chances are, they won't get us on a murder charge." Daniel smirked. The two fell silent for a moment.

"Life sucks, Merritt," Daniel concluded to break the silence, "There isn't a single one of us here who doesn't know that. You live, you do crappy things, and then you die."

"Oh, you little ray of sunshine," Merritt muttered.

"You can talk about crappy stuff though," Daniel said, ignoring his jibe, "And then it doesn't always seem so bad."

"And I will drink to that," Merritt sip, downing his second drink. "Hey, so, do you think you were drawn to Henley because she was a runaway who reminded you of your sister?" Daniel rolled his eyes, standing up and handing Merritt his glass.

"Just shut up and get yourself drunk as hell, McKinney," he said, clapping him on the shoulder before leaving him alone to drown what was left of his sorrows.

* * *

><p><strong>Tada! I hope that wasn't too... deep or serious or anything... I'm on Christmas holidays now so I'm hoping to get around to writing Henley's chapter at some point soon but with the amount of college work my teachers have given me it might now happen.<strong>

**Leave a review if you fancy making my Christmas! I hope you enjoyed and thank you for reading! MERRY CHRISTMAS!**


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